


Naughty

by Emery



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Breaking the Law, Carlos plays along, Cecil gets aroused, M/M, Second Kiss, Slight mention of tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:05:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emery/pseuds/Emery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Carlos uses a pen and Cecil finds himself lustfully craving more of the scientist’s rebellious behavior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naughty

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://cultofthepigeon.tumblr.com/post/57139391089) post on Tumblr. 
> 
> My blog can be found [here](http://emeryylee.tumblr.com)! Come say hello and check out my writing tag for a complete listing of Night Vale fic and original fiction. I'd love to hear from you!

Their second date night was to be just as wonderful as the first—if not more so. Hint after hint had been dropped but to no avail, until finally one night, the batting of Cecil’s pale eyelashes (multiple sets of them) had convinced Carlos to utter the words Cecil had been waiting with bated breath to hear.

“It’s nothing too exciting, but you’re welcome to come to my lab sometime. You know, for personal reasons.”

 _Perfect_.

Upon stepping into the basement laboratory, the one by Rico’s Pizza, for the first time, Cecil was everything _but_ disappointed.

“Oh, Carlos, it’s simply fantastic,” he drawled appreciatively, the words slow to leave his lips but gorgeous in their adoration. He poked tentatively at one particularly bubbly sample. Carlos stuttered some sort of warning that went only half-heeded. “Of course you’re going to show me how to use everything, and teach me what all these numbers mean, and explain your other incredibly _smart_ things.”

It was a statement, a fact—not a request.

Carlos smiled at him then, that wonderful, typical smile that showed a characteristic combination of exhaustion, fondness, embarrassment, and appreciation all at once. “Anything you ask I’ll oblige—on one condition.”

Cecil’s eyes widened and he stopped abruptly where he stood, admiring a machine which seemed to be oscillating a rack of liquid-filled test tubes, but for what reason Cecil was at a loss.

“Don’t touch anything until I finish this one report? Just a few more minutes? If I don’t write it now, I’ll forget the details of the observation—“ The last sentence Carlos mumbled, more to himself than to Cecil, it seemed.

Of course the radio host obeyed immediately, not wanting to be a source of further anxiety for the love of his life, and so he sat quietly in a wooden chair by Carlos’s desk and simply _watched_.

_It’s what a scientist does all the time—watch things. I’ll be just like Carlos. He’ll be so proud…_

Cecil’s first observation entirely out of the ordinary was that _thing_ in Carlos’s hand—an ink pen, and probably a cheap one by the looks of it. Black ink. The end had been chewed on. Cecil could tell that Carlos gripped the thing hard, probably gave himself cramps in his hands. The whole affair of watching pen tip meet paper, creating words and phrases and sentences in Carlos’s neat, careful script, was wrong, forbidden, illegal, _arousing_. Cecil’s eyes trained on the movement of the scientist’s hands and a flush rose on his cheeks.

_My dear, sweet Carlos—so defiant. So confident in his abilities that he’s lawless, untamed. Wild. Rebellious._

_Perfect._

Carlos glanced up and peered at Cecil over his sleek, rimless glasses. “Cecil?”

Cecil lifted a hand to his mouth with a speed unmatched. Had he really just moaned aloud? He realized with horror that his other hand rested nonchalantly on the hardening bulge beneath his trousers and oh _gods_ , what had he done?

“It’s nothing, Carlos.” A nervous tongue darted over quivering lips. “Finish your report?”

Carlos blinked and set the pen down atop his notebook. The thing was tattered and worn, betraying the intensity and frequency of his field work and his strict dedication to his job.

_Why did you have to set that pen down? Damn, that was hot, Carlos—pick it back up, write again, let me watch you—_

“You look like you need something. Or that I’m doing something unusual or—“ Carlos’s words trailed off and his fingers twisted and fidgeted together like they always did when he was nervous.

Cecil’s hand covered the nervous appendages and squeezed Carlos’s hand in a gentle display of reassurance. “It’s nothing, my love, except I can hardly make myself sit still when I’m watching you like this.”

“Like—what?”

Lilac eyes drifted to the pen that Carlos had set down so carelessly in the open.

“My pen?”

“The City Council banned those years ago,” Cecil whispered. “And _fuck_ if you don’t look handsome holding one.”

Carlos’s mouth fell open in an obvious display of confusion laced with a hint of disbelief, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. That was a word Cecil didn’t use often, had never used in front of Carlos, and the shock was obvious. What was even more obvious was Cecil’s _need_. He was certainly doing nothing to hide it now, as he leaned forward across Carlos’s desk and as his tattoos swirled hungrily around his arms and shoulders. Two tentacles were already beginning to manifest. Some form of lubricant made them gleam in the dim light of the laboratory, and they twitched with each one of Cecil’s hitched breaths and needy sighs.

Carlos picked up the pen again and held it up in front of Cecil, who only shook his head and smirked slyly.

“Oh, Carlos, you _naughty_ boy.”

It was Cecil who initiated their second kiss on their second date, pushing the pen roughly aside to plant his lips with a firm determination onto the scientist’s. Heat sparked between them and Cecil couldn’t keep himself from tangling his fingers in dark, lush hair, tracing his tongue along semi-chapped lips, and teasing the shell of Carlos’s ear with one tentacle, darkened from its usual purple to a shade nearly black—perhaps the voice of Night Vale’s most obvious sign of arousal.

“ _My_ naughty boy, my _perfect_ Carlos.”

The outsider’s confusion was obvious, but he nearly catapulted himself across the desk to meet Cecil’s kiss, as if it was something he had wanted for a long time. In his confusion and his desperation, the feel of the tentacle on his ear was nothing more to him than the caress of a hand or the swipe of a tongue—the fact that Cecil’s tongue and both of his hands were already occupied didn’t enter his mind. That would be an observation for another night, during an intimate moment on top of a mountain that shouldn’t exist.


End file.
